Secret
by Space-Weazel
Summary: A short Piccohan drabble.


"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, it's not going to get better. It's not." – Dr. Suess, The Lorax

It's the way he looks at me sometimes, those passing, seemingly uncaring glances that a gargoyle would give; watchful yet ultimately cold. Sometimes I doubt he really loves me, that he only plays his part to keep me happy. I suppose that in itself is a form of love, but not what I bargained for. Of course I was not foolish enough to think there would be mornings when we would lay in eachothers arms and whisper silly, meaningless words, or that evenings would be spend sprawled out in the vast fields of our childhood training grounds while we reminisced about simpler times. But I dreamt of it. Every night.

And now that I had him in my arms, this man whose leather skin could rival any petty emerald jewel, I had nothing. His flesh pressed against mine, his breathing like a metronome. Even the smooth creases of his face were relaxed, rendering him utterly peaceful. All I could do was look. It was a rule between us that we never spoke of what happened to anyone. With a gentle lull, I tilted my wrist. It was almost nine. Soon enough I would be home, greeting my wife and daughter, offering sweet pastries for breakfast and explaining away how busy things have gotten at work and that I was only stopping by for a little while. I knew whose arms would find me when I made amends.

And they were always there.

I shifted my weight to move. A light touch to the bruise on my neck alerted me of our night of ecstasy. A new little game he had thought up. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it, but today was not the day for love marks. I can't always be sparring in the middle of my business trips, now can I? His eyes meet mine before breaking away. When he sits up, he nearly topples me over backwards, but he catches me. He would never let me fall.

We sat there for the longest time. Our clothes long discarded but out inhibitions returning. My breath hitches in my throat as though I cannot breathe, but that was the fun part. Piccolo makes a wordless grunt at me and the glassy reflection of himself he can see in my eyes. I left my mark on him as well, but far deeper.

Eventually I pushed away. I'm not sure at what time I did this or why, but I gathered my clothes and looked back at him. He was oddly still. He must be tired. My slacks lazily found their way on, as did my formerly pressed shirt. For a moment I wish he would have stopped me, but he didn't. He had not even moved from the spot I left him in. I made a few unintelligible sounds, but to no avail. He sat there, looking at the palms of his hands in all their emptiness. I would have asked him what was wrong, but I was too afraid he'd deem my concern as a sentimental waste. I'd see him again soon anyway. I had to.

"I'll be back later" I said, my words spat far too quickly to reassure him. He looked at me for the second time this morning. He looked like a man who had lost his kingdom but still kept the crown for all the good it would do.

I stopped when I reached the door; my hand perched on the knob. He broke the gaze and clenched his fists. Something was wrong.

"They'll miss you if you keep stalling, kid." His voice was deadpan.

I would love to say that I stayed, but I didn't. He was right about a lot of things. I spoke my hasty 'don't worry about its'' and 'It's only temporaries' but Kami knows I just say those things to keep it together. Afterall, what would they say if they ever found out? I can't say I'd be upset if she left. There was a time when I really loved her, but times had changed. The whole ordeal was a mockery, but at least I have my daughter. I do love her, so does Piccolo- well as much as he can love a noisy little bundle of a kid- which turns out to be a whole awful lot. It would make me so happy to announce to her that we were over, that I was taking Pan and moving away from her and her life and her fake friends with their fake parties and fake laughter; but I know from the moment I stepped foot into my own house that the only words to escape my lips would be 'yes dear, no dear, I'm sorry hun, I'll try to be on time tomorrow' or other such obscene things. Never the mind. I'll make this work with us and things will be good again. I'll just have to stop being confused for long enough to set things straight.

_  
_And I can't live alone in this lie.


End file.
